Bloodborne
by Xenitha
Summary: PLOT: Nightwing must risk his own life to rescue Batman, a victim of a bioengineered plague, from a snowy wasteland in the Arctic Circle. This is a novelization of the graphic novel originally written by Kelley Puckett and illustrated by Toby Cypress; the art is so bad that the story is almost inaccessible.
1. Chapter 1

BLOODBORNE, a novelization of the graphic novel originally written by Kelley Puckett and illustrated by Toby Cypress

Rationalization: the story that _Bloodborne_ tells is probably one of the best Nightwing/Batman tales I've ever seen, plot-holes aside. Unfortunately, the artwork is so terrible that I have always found it difficult to enjoy the writing. I have wanted to novelize this since I first read it and was appalled at the terrible illustration. Therefore, most of the dialogue is taken from Kelley Puckett's original script, while I hope to paint, with my words, the reality of the story. Needless to say, I will do some tinkering throughout. But that's what fanfiction is all about. :)

Lastly, I must offer an apologetic explanation for any errors you see in the text. I have severe carpal tunnel syndrome and am using Dragon software to write this. I've trained my Dragon well and my beta is superb, but sometimes, mistakes might creep through. So, please, bear with us.

Mega thanks to my beta, Ellen! 

* * *

Chapter 1 SOMEWHERE NEAR THE ARCTIC CIRCLE 

Batman stumbled in the snow. He had been successful in his mission. Maybe too successful. In the distance behind him, his helicopter was in flames. The militia, crudely trained, yet armed with the latest in weaponry, had shot it down. He had to get the vial he held back to civilization. It had be possible to find a cure before it was too late.

He faced off against the militia and fought of the frontrunners, noting that they seemed unsteady on their feet. Their shots were going wild. They had it too. As the ones in the back began falling into the snow, Batman raised his hands into the muzzles of the rifles, the vial glowing dimly in the arctic day. The leader raised his weapon in trembling hands, then gasped and dropped backwards to the snow. His comrades began clutching themselves, finally succumbing to the manufactured virus. Batman turned away. He didn't have much time.

_Last chance_, Batman muttered to himself, as he slogged through the snow. Need shelter, somewhere. He heard the beat of his heart pounding in his ears and getting louder. He'd been exposed too. The pounding got louder. And louder. Soon he was feeling it in his chest, his heart, struggling to fight off the illness. The pounding became a pain, radiating through his chest and into his arms. Batman's legs dropped from beneath him, leaving him out flat on his back in the snow.

It was no good. He was going to die here. He clawed open his utility belt and removed a batarang-shaped device with glowing lights on it. He had to keep them from looking for him. Dick would find him if he could and he'd die from the same plague. Had to prevent that. Mustering the last of his strength, Batman closed his fingers hard on the device. It made one last beeping noise before it fell silent and the lights dimmed.

Letting his hand fall back into the snow, the Dark Knight prepared for death.

Thousands of miles away, Alfred Pennyworth indulged himself in a cup of tea. It had been a quiet afternoon while he monitored the Master's databanks and, most importantly, the readout on his location. The beacon had not moved in at least half an hour. As he sipped his lapsang souchong, the light on his board winked out. The old butler stared for a long moment. His teacup crashed to the floor, but the light remained dark. He found his way to the phone and made a call. 

* * *

BLUDHAVEN-Dick Grayson 

"Last chance, Grayson," Clancy's voice rang through my door as she pounded energetically on it. "It's a glorious day for Bludhaven… Far too beautiful to stay…" She blinked as she saw my face. I try not to see people on this day. "… inside," she finished lamely.

"Sorry, Clance, can't, not today." I backed away from the door and began rummaging on the table beside it. I really try not to see people on this day and Clancy, while a good friend, shouldn't be burdened with old pain of mine.

"A previous engagement, is it?" Clancy peered curiously into the apartment.

"Yeah, for about twenty years. Today's the day my parents died." I kept on rummaging, a good excuse to keep my face away. Clancy's sharp. I knew that she'd noted my good shirt, complete with cufflinks, Bruce's gift from years ago.

"Oh, I'm truly sorry, Dick," she said contritely. "Will… you be wanting any company, then? I could change—"

"No," I said, shrugging on my jacket. I hadn't put on my sunglasses in time and I knew that Clancy had seen that my eyes were red and puffy. "Thanks, but ... this is something I do alone." I grabbed up my keys, shouldered my way past Clancy, and ran down the stairs, leaving her in the open doorway.

The drive to Gotham is long enough to force you into meditation. I had been living in Bludhaven for about a year, but I had to admit that the flavor of Gotham was different. The traffic was not as onerous, the cars a little newer. Unquestionably, Bludhaven was Gotham's poorer, dirtier sister. There was no doubt in my mind that Bludhaven needed me. Of course, when Batman had begun to protect Gotham, the streets there had been just as greedy and grimy as Bludhaven's were when I moved there. I hoped that when I had been at work a while, Bludhaven's streets would look better too.

I spotted a convertible next to me on the road. A happy family filled the car, the children wearing funny hats, grasping ice cream and cotton candy. In the back I could see the sorts of toys that were sold in the stands at the circus. I couldn't help smiling at the memories. I wondered how much they'd take for that ice cream and that cotton candy? Then I saw it, just off the road where the underbrush cleared, a huge billboard that said "Gotham City Circus next right. I smiled to myself, remembering the day and Mom and Dad. Hmmm, were they trying to tell me something?

As I pulled into the dusty parking lot, my nose was assaulted by a variety of familiar smells: cotton candy, ice cream, popcorn and, beneath it all, the smell of elephants and wild animals. I grinned and got out of the car. I knew just where to find the manager.

Sure enough, in a shabby trailer at the center of things, I found the man. Twenty minutes and a stack of cash later, I found myself on the trapeze again. The show wasn't due to start until that evening and the rest of the crew were rehearsing. Before I ascended the pole, I took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of sawdust. While I was chalking my hands, I heard a conversation between the ringmaster and the manager.

"What the hell's going on down? They said you let some civilian..." the manager groused.

"Shhhh. Remember the Flying Graysons?"

The manager looked thoughtful. I finished chalking my hands and began to climb the pole. The ringmaster said, "The Flying… Yeah, sure, I remember. Why, is that…?"

The manager gave a chuckle. "Yep. Watch this."

I smiled to myself and started up the pole. I recalled what Dad had told me, "Remember son, if you try to look, it'll throw you off, so don't." At the top, I saw my catcher in the distance. He swung out on the trapeze, building momentum. It was time to fly! Soon, I found myself upside down doing my famous quadruple roll. Again, I heard Dad's voice telling me "Just close your eyes, remember your training—and trust your partner to be there for you." With a deeply satisfied smile, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to flight. Much too soon, I felt the smack of two hands grabbing mine. I swung easily back to the platform, to the applause of those standing below. Back down on the sawdust I was greeted like a long-lost member of the family. The Flying Graysons had not been forgotten. Mom and Dad hadn't been forgotten. It made me feel... better.

While I was talking to my new friends, I heard my cell phone beeping from my coat pocket. Who on earth could it be now?

The tone of Alfred's voice on the other end had me speeding all the way to the manor. The look in his eyes told me I should have driven faster. He met me at the top of the steps as I raced from my car.

"I'm sorry to have troubled you, Sir. On today of all days."

Sir? He called me sir? "No trouble, Alfred. Fill me in."

"He's gone to Outer Mongolia… I don't know why. Obviously he should have returned by today, so..." Alfred sounded worried. Probably more worried than I had ever heard him.

I frowned. "Wait… Obvious, how?"

"The flowers, Sir. For your parents. I've never known him to miss the occasion." Alfred walked into the parlor, leaving me next to the large bouquet comprising a dozen red roses. I picked them up, smelling their fragrance. I couldn't help thinking, _He does that? I didn't… I'd always assumed that Alfred…_

"I'm sorry," I said, realizing that there were more important things to be discussed. "Go on. When he didn't return, you…?"

"I traced his signal to a desolate waste near the Arctic Circle. Before I could pinpoint his location, however…" Alfred's voice quavered. "The homing beacon was silenced. As if in response."

That didn't sound good at all. "You were right to call me. Get me the fastest jet you can find, Pilot's license, fake IDs, the usual. I ..."

I strode into the Batcave with Alfred at my side and noticed a familiar figure in red and green. Tim? He was here? I turned to Alfred. "You called him in? I think I should do this _alone_, Alfred."

"As do I, Sir." Alfred spared a brief glance at Robin, who was working busily at the computer consoles. "But I thought it best that Master Timothy knew, so he could be sure he done all he could."

I had never heard Alfred talk like this. I really should have gotten there faster. I walked over to Tim at the console. "Hey," I said and studied him closely, the way Bruce had taught me. The boy was scared.

"Hey," Tim replied.

I leaned over the computer screen. "Show me what you've got."

"I don't get it—for some reason, he erased the mission files before he left." Tim continued to pound keys, frowning at the computer's lack of cooperation.

"He always does that..." How to tell him? Bruce does this on missions when he expects to die? Bruce does this on missions when he expects Robin to die if he goes after him? "…on the dangerous ones. So we can follow him." If Tim was scared, I was even more frightened. Bruce didn't lock down the computer for just anything.

"Yeah, well, there is erased and then there's _erased_. I retrieved most of them. It starts off with the bio of this Russian virologist. When she was just a kid she…"

I could tell by Tim's voice. Tim knew. He could hear it in Alfred's voice. In _my_ voice. He knew this might be the one.

I remembered one of my first missions as Robin. I was helping Batman bring in members of the gang who'd killed my parents. Batman had left me in the rafters to watch him take down the last five or so thugs we hadn't caught yet. With a loud crack, then a wham, Batman threw the goons through the air. One of them dropped the gun and it went off with a loud explosion. Batman recoiled suddenly, and grabbed at his chest. As the bullet twanged the air, suddenly I was there, on the sawdust listening to the wires give way just before my parents fell.

Panicking, I leaped down from the rafters and ran towards Batman. I had just lost two parents and I wasn't going to lose a third. Somehow I had to get to him and help him. As Batman staggered from the shot, the last thug tried to get him from behind, but Batman swung around with a roundhouse punch. Batman stood over the last thug, then let him drop. In a deep gravelly voice he said, "I told you to stay hidden."

"But… the gun! You were _shot_!" I looked Batman up and down, but didn't see any blood.

Batman's voice went deeper and more gentle. "Take a deep breath. Calm down. I dodged the bullet, Robin. I always do. Okay?" I wasn't sure that I believed him, but he wasn't going to say anything else.

"Okay," I finally replied. He rested his hand on my shoulder and led me back to the car. As I often did, I fell asleep on the ride home. I remember hearing Bruce's voice talking to Commissioner Gordon on the phone, calling in the Gotham City Police Department to pick up the thugs he'd just dealt with. I remember that I smiled, comforted that the last of the murderers had been caught. I drifted off to sleep while Bruce called Alfred about something.

The next thing I remember, I was in Bruce's arms being gently lowered into bed while Alfred pulled the blankets around me. "Sleep well, master Grayson," Alfred said, and turned the light off. Bruce followed him out the door and I fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, suddenly worried about Batman. I _had_ seen him get hit by that bullet, I was sure of it. I got out of bed and tiptoed into the study. Everything was quiet in the house. I knew that Bruce was asleep. I opened the old clock and went down the stairs. On one of the tables Bruce or Alfred had left Batman's uniform next to a tray of surgical tools. I picked up the shirt and held it up to the light. I saw it shine through a hole in the center of the bat that decorated the middle of Batman's chest. I'd been right. Batman had been hit by that bullet. I put two fingers through the hole. I couldn't explain it, but Batman had survived it somehow.

I think it was at that point that I began to believe that Batman was almost immortal. It allowed me to work as his assistant, Robin, until I matured enough to know better. No man is invincible and no matter how much I want Bruce to be impervious to death, he is still just a man and mortal. 

LATER

The next thing I remember, I was lying in the snow, being pulled by my arms. _Something's happened_, I mused. I had just been in the batcave, listening to Tim. I looked around at the snowy wasteland and guessed that I wasn't in Gotham anymore.

I smelled smoke and burning jet fuel. Had the WayneTech jet crashed? No, shot down. _Amnesia, _I thought to myself. That was bad. I was thinking in complete sentences, though. I stretched my legs and realized that I could breathe in fully and I could feel my toes. Good enough.

I kicked upward and quickly subdued the two gunmen who had been dragging me. I saw three guns behind me and two ATVs. I'd need one. The remaining gunmen started firing. I pulled out a handful of wingdings and threw them at the three men. I realized that I only had scrapes and bruises from the crash. Lucky.

The fighters wore patchy parkas. Most of them were unshaven and slovenly looking, but their weapons were shiny and so were their vehicles. Rebel fighters of some sort. I wasn't up on local politics, but they were clearly well-financed. I heard a loud, high-pitched buzzing from behind me and wondered what the sound was. My plane exploded, taking out two of the men and startling the rest. They began to complain loudly—in Russian, I think. I used my wingdings to take them were well-financed, but undisciplined. And bloodthirsty.

Okay. I decided to take stock. No jet. No ATVs. My equipment went up in the fire: thermal suit, electronic devices. In fact, I was down everything except a heartbeat sensor with a twenty foot range. Maps and instrument readings said I was just south of Alfred's partial trace location. I sighed. A circle five miles wide.

On foot, five miles wide. Twenty foot range, and there was a storm coming in. I rubbed my face with my icy gloves. _Don't do the math._

The day got darker and the wind picked up. I began to really regret losing that thermal suit. The only thing I had was the heartbeat monitor and I followed it religiously, clutching it to my chest to protect it from the freezing wind. I did a clean sweep and found no heartbeats in the Valley. I had just decided to move on to the ridge when I saw a hand sticking up out of the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I ran towards the arm, finding the rest of Batman's body buried in ice. Frantically, I clawed it away, finally revealing my mentor and friend. He was very pale, with blue lips. Not dead. Please, not dead. He was wearing a thermal suit. That, plus the ice sheet could've masked his heart beat. Hypothermia...yogic training could have slowed it down to almost nothing. I pulled off my glove and thrust my hand into Bruce's cowl to find a heartbeat at his carotid artery. Beat! Damn you...Beat!..._Please_...

The pulse monitor, that I'd dropped when I began digging Batman out of the snow, made a feeble noise. And then another. _He's alive! _I dug faster. Finally I had most of the snow off him, but his body was cold. I looked up into the darkening sky. The storm was almost on us. I looked around bleakly at the forested wasteland. The snow was just beginning and there was no shelter. There! I saw several large rocks bounded by three pine trees. It wasn't much but it was some shelter. I pulled a knife out of my boot and began cutting pine boughs, laying them on the snow inside the circle of rocks. When it was heavy enough I carried Batman over to the hollow and laid him down.

I lay down next to him and pulled his cape over the both of us. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, trying to share body heat. C'mon, Bruce, you're stronger than this. I pulled him tighter and listened. The wind came wailing over the top of the rocks, sounding like a freight train. The cold became got more intense. I huddled into Batman's body and listened to him breathe, too shallow but at least he was still alive. I had to keep him warm, somehow. He'd been in the snow longer than I had. The rocks cut the wind, but not by much. I wished there were some way to make the shelter more effective, but there wasn't much out here. Just more tree branches. If only I could make a fire and warm the two of us. But there was no chance of that in the middle of this storm...

Concussions aren't fun, and this one was even less so than most. I still felt muzzy and knew that my brain wasn't working straight. My headache went from 'mild' to 'kill me now'. Yep, this was a classic concussion. If I were home, Alfred would be putting me to bed with hot cocoa, then stopping by every few hours to check on me. I ducked my head down, laying my cheek onto the pine branch. There was something I should be remembering. What was it? I strained my dizzy memory, but couldn't find it. Finally I gave up. The snow swirled around Batman and I, taking everything away with it. 

* * *

I think I passed out. When I woke up, hours had passed and so had the storm. I was huddled next to Batman and the both of us were covered with a light crust of snow. He was still. He wasn't...? I quickly dug inside his cowl and felt for his pulse again. I breathed a long sigh of relief. No, there was still a heartbeat. The sky overhead was brilliant with stars; the storm had cleared. Orion in declension..Rigel and Betelgeuse lined up for true north, just like Bruce had shown me so many years ago. Easy to navigate. And beautiful... I got up and hauled Bruce into my arms. We could go. Go where?...go...forward. I set my jaw and stumbled forward into the icy darkness. How far we got, I'll never know. At some point I tripped and we both fell into a snowbank. It felt warm and soft, like a feather bed...

The wind was gone and all was still...A memory swam into my mind. Maps, lost with the plane...showed a way station up ahead. Or...was it back in the cave...I...Memory flashes coming back to me. _Geez, mind wandering...going hypothermic...Gotta get out of here. Keep moving... _Unsteady, I climbed to my feet, staring around me, unsure... Batman, at my feet, stirred a bit.

"Dick..." A rough voice rasped my name.

"Bruce!" I cried and knelt back down in the snow beside him. I cupped his cheek in my hand and felt, inexplicably, warmer. How could that be?

"Leave...me..." He wheezed. "Get..away...from me..."

"The Hell I will, Bruce," I said. He didn't answer. We had to find shelter, fast. I picked him up again and kept moving. At the crest of a hill, I saw it. The way station. It was a tiny cabin in a clearing with a large radio antenna next to it. The windows had been boarded over but smoke curled out of the chimney. I looked down at my burden. Batman had gone quiet. He was still alive. He had to be. I couldn't be too late.

I stumbled down the hill to the cabin door. No way was I knocking and asking meekly for help. I kicked the door open. Bright light assaulted my eyes and blessed heat rushed over me. The woman inside muttered something in Russian as I slammed the door closed behind me. She shoved the barrel of a Kalashnikov into my face.

She looked familiar. _That face...seen it before... _I ignored the gun and carried Batman over to the small bed in the corner, laying him gently down onto it.

"What do you want?" she asked in heavily accented English.

"Blankets, warm water," I instructed her, wrapping the blankets around Batman. "We have to raise his body temperature slowly. He's..." I laid my hand against his forehead, startled. "Burning up?"

"Nyet.." she said roughly and backed away a couple of steps.

I turned back to him. _He's feverish. That makes no sense. How? Why would he be?_ For the first time, I saw what he clutched in his left hand. I gently took his wrist and the vial dropped to the floor with a *plink!" It was corked, then sealed with wax and tied around with twine. Someone really wanted to keep it secure. I studied it and another memory surfaced. My eyes widened in horror.

_I remember.. _In the cave, Tim was showing me his research. A rough, bearded face glared back at me with burning eyes.

"...rebel leader Dragutsk...mountain stronghold...5,000 man militia..." Then Tim had flashed up another face onto the screen, a woman this time. "...Russian virologist. When she was just a kid, she saw her parents murdered by rebel Siberian militiamen..." Her familiar face had disappeared and a third picture appeared overhead. A vial, corked, sealed in wax and bound with twine..."...hyper-virulent viral compound...single vial...could wipe out a continent..." Tim's young voice summing up the death and destruction, numbering the dead, the millions doomed, rendering an entire continent bereft of life. I remembered Batman's demand that I leave him behind.

I held up the vial and eyed its contents. I felt the cold seep down into my soul. _That's why he killed the trace. Why he told me to leave him. _Why he _buried this mission to keep us from following. _I looked back at his reddening. In the heat of the cabin, his face had begun to perspire. _He's infected._

_The virologist. She'll know what to... _I looked up to see her sprinting through the door, rifle in hand. _Oh no you don't!_ I ran after her at top speed. As she ran into a thicket of evergreens, a militiaman stepped out from cover and raised his AK-47 to his eye, aiming it at her. Neither of them saw me, since I was coming up from behind. I got the militiaman from behind, toppling him with a single blow. Then I grabbed the woman by the hand and forced her back towards the cabin.

"Why'd you run? Is he infectious? Is the vial not secure?" I panted as we both ran.

Over the rise, the cabin still stood in the clearing, but a helicopter was parked next to it and two men were putting Batman into it.. _NO! _They shoved him inside and slammed the door shut. I dropped the woman's hand, racing for the cabin. The helicopter took off, but maybe if I scaled the hut, I could still catch them...

The large woodpile gave me access to the cabin roof and a leap from the chimney gave me enough of a boost to grab a runner one-handed. Trouble was, the occupants of the 'copter heard and felt the impact of my grab. They slid the door open, rifles poking outside. Soon, bullets were streaming down at me, out the door and through the flooring of the 'copter. I had no choice but to let go before the helicopter gained any more altitude.

Bad timing. I landed on a pine tree and thumped down from branch to branch to branch until I landed hard on the snowy ground. I don't know how long I was out, but when I started coming to, I wasn't in the snow. I was...moving... I could feel the jolt and rattle of a motor vehicle floor beneath me, not snow. I was...almost...warm. Damn, I was getting tired of snow.

A female voice said, in heavily accented English, "Slowly. I'm not a surgeon. I..." And I was fully awake and upright with my hand at her throat.

"Quiet," I said in a low voice. Batman wouldn't want me to kill, but I was getting closer to the line. "Your virus is killing my friend. I don't care why you made it. I don't care why they want it." I growled in a close approximation of Batman at his worst. "I only want him alive. Do you know where he is? And is there a cure?"

She saw something in my face, because she gulped and nodded that she'd cooperate. "Yes. And yes. The cure is in my laboratory."

I slowly pulled my hand off her throat. "Take me there."

She tugged open the covering at the back of the truck we rode in and pointed. "I already have."

We were on a hill, about twenty feet above a guarded Quonset hut. Four militiamen patrolled it. She saw my glance.

"More of Dragutsk's men. They're going through my records, trying to replicate the vir-" I interrupted her.

"How many underground levels?" I demanded.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Count to thirty, then walk in the front and go directly to the lab. Leave the men to me," I said. Before I climbed out of the truck, I turned back to her. "Double-cross me and you'll regret it." My anger must have shown in my eyes, because she shrank back away from me.

"Your friend...I didn't mean for him...I'm not a monster," she said, mother of a million deaths if that virus got out.

"Sure you aren't," I said bitterly and jumped off the back of the truck.

Yes, I was bitter and the rage was bubbling just below the surface. Probably just as well there were so many thugs to disable on my way to the lab. Oh, I didn't kill anybody, but I was less than gentle with the ones I met. Soon, I had found the ventilation system that led into the lab. Good thing, too. She'd counted thirty, I supposed, but it was a fast count. There she was, just inside the door, being held at gunpoint by another militiaman, who was just below the covering of my ceiling vent.

With a grin, I slid the cover aside and reached down a long arm to grab the thug by the scruff of his jacket and yanked him off his feet. He squawked, feet spinning in the air, but dropped the pistol. I let him go and dropped lightly to the floor next to him, quickly rendering him unconscious.

"Go!" I waved her towards the computer terminal and took care of the only other person in the room, the bald guy in the lab coat who shivered next to the computer. He was soon tied to a chair with two strips of adhesive over his mouth for a gag, while she rummaged through the materials on the desk.

From the corner of my eye I saw her pop open a small hatch built into the wall. She removed a vial. "Got it."

I turned away from Baldy. "Good. Now.."

She was backing into a doorway, vial in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said, while a pair of double doors slid shut.

"Nooooo!" I ran to the doors and tried to pry them open, but they were hermetically sealed.

"Dobry vyecher! Spakoyne noyche!" A gruff male voice called. I whirled, to find half a dozen rifles pointed at me, with more men pouring into the room. 

* * *

OUTSIDE

The woman climbed the stairs back to ground level and silently closed the back door to the facility. It was a good thing that she had planned a secret escape when the lab was built, just in case of such an eventuality.

She felt bad about the young man's friend, she really did. But if the old, oddly dressed man wasn't dead by now, he soon would be. She slogged through the snow, fingering the vial tucked safely in her pocket. Odd, how loyal the young one was to his older friend. Perhaps they weren't friends, but family. The older one might be the younger's father. She sighed, remembering her own father and mother, long dead now. That might explain the loyalty between the two. Still, she had her own duty to her parents, and that was more important here.

She reached the truck in time to hear the sounds of a loud struggle coming from the Quonset hut. A pity, really, but the young man was outnumbered badly. She slid into the driver's seat and turned the ignition, as a blue and black arm shot through the window of the vehicle and grabbed her.

Struggling, she was pulled out of the truck. A very battered looking young man efficiently patted her down and removed the vial from her pocket. "You're wasting time," he said, brandishing the vial in front of her nose. "Let's go. Dragutsk's stronghold," he said. 

* * *

DICK GRAYSON

I was so tired of this. We had so little time left and she kept slipping out of my hands, like an eel! "Well?" I glowered at her, waiting for a further evasion. One more minute, one less for Bruce.

She raised her hands, helplessly. "Wait. There's no point..." She paused fearfully. "That vial. It's not a cure."

I just gawped at her. She must be lying again. This was some trick. It had to be another trick. "What?" I gritted, holding the vial up against the light.

"It's a vaccine. There is no cure. Your friend," she couldn't meet my eyes. "It's too late."

"A vaccine...?" I said, my gut dropping inside me. My knees gave way and I was left howling in the snow. Bruce couldn't die. He just couldn't _die._ Not like this. I had given him my best, my very best and it wasn't enough. He'd give his life for me, almost had any number of times. Now, when he needed me, I had tried, but I just wasn't good enough.

I slumped forward into the snow, pounding the ground with rage and grief. Since I was eight years old, we'd called each other 'friend' or 'partner', but really, we were 'father' and 'son'. I couldn't lose him. Not now. The hot tears ran down my face. I didn't care if the woman saw me lose it. I didn't care if every gunman in the neighborhood surrounded me and shot me dead on the spot. He was gone and I'd never had a chance to tell him how important he was to me, how much he meant. I'd never had a chance to tell him any of that. Now I never would.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I felt the despair, the sheer pointlessness of it all. Bruce...Jason...Tim...me...What was it all for, in the end? We train, we prepare, we fight so hard...And a damned, fucking _virus_ takes down the best of us. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't _fair!_

I knew that I was overwrought. Bruce would chide me for my lack of control and tell me to meditate until my chi or something settled down. He'd always kept his emotions so tightly locked down, you rarely saw him break. I'd only known what he was feeling by tiny, almost imperceptible tells that nobody would see but me. And now, here I was, his son, his heir, sobbing in the snow.

"I'm sorry. I..." she said softly, coming up behind where I was crouched in the snow.

I drew in a long, shaking breath. "So," I forced out in a thick voice. "Was it worth it?"

"What?" she asked, truly puzzled.

"Killing him. I bet he saved your life at some point." I cleared my throat to steady my voice, but it didn't help any. "So. Are you happy now? Feel better?" I would have said more, heaped abuse on her, but I choked on the words. I couldn't look at her, either, or I'd break Bruce's rule about killing for sure. My mask was coming loose from my tears, but who the Hell cared? Reflexively, I reseated it over my nose. Keeping the secret was something that Bruce had always...

"You. You have no idea what you're talking about. My reasons are my own," she said angrily.

"I'm sure they're wonderful." _What do I do now, Bruce? I'll have to tell Alfred. And Tim. And Cass. And Barbara. And Leslie...Oh God, I can't do this. _I huddled against the cold wind that had picked up. I supposed that I should get up out of the snow. Call Alfred to send Tim with a jet. Bring Batman's body back; he's surely dead by now. The pain of the thought tore through my chest.

"You...you...You stand by helpless as your parents are murdered! _Then_ tell me I have no right to vengeance!" She cast at me.

The sheer irony of it stopped me in my tracks. I climbed to my feet and looked at this puling excuse for human being who had killed the best man who'd ever lived. "You. Have. No. Right," I forced out. She just looked at me.

My grief hardened and finally resolved itself into a burning core of fury. This virologist, this...this...person was responsible for Bruce's death. And on the very anniversary of my parents' murder. Maybe, just maybe if Bruce were still alive, something might be done. In the virologist's lab, after I subdued the soldiers, I'd dosed myself with what I had thought was the 'cure'. I had been exposed to the virus, carrying Bruce. I saved the rest to give Bruce. But if it was a vaccine, I'd have built up some resistance by now. Maybe I could share that with Bruce. It was an impossible chance, but Bruce had always lived by the impossible. I moved towards the helicopter parked nearby. "Come on. We're going," I said.

She trailed behind. "But I told you..."

"Never mind that. I have a plan," I pulled open the door and helped her in.

"Look, there's no way your friend could have survived this long," she frowned at me resentfully. I frowned right back; being tied to this woman wasn't my idea, but she was Bruce's only chance. I slid into the pilot's seat.

"Yeah, well, I've heard that one before," I began preflight checks. The copter was fully fueled. Once we were both seat belted in, I fired up the engine. There was only one place to go, where they'd taken Bruce, the mountain stronghold of Yevgenii Dragutsk. 

* * *

DRAGUTSK'S STRONGHOLD 

We landed a few minutes later, out of sight of the compound. The place was huge, more castle than compound. It sat on top of a huge rocky crag, primary access was a long, spindly and well-guarded bridge. Or climbing up the crag on the offside. Dragutsk had money, resources. I could use that. I got out of the copter and pulled her behind me.

"Walk where I walk. Do what I do, and don't make a sound or we're both dead. Got it?" I hissed at her.

"Um..." She looked scared at the cliffs we were going to scale but followed me when I glared at her. We crept up past guard's nests, through rock-cut hallways and to the basement, where I found the maintenance access.

"Here we are," I said, unlocking a grate in the floor. We went through and dropped to a sub-basement full of piping, dropping to a large platform that overlooked a huge cavern. The cavern was full of empty cots, neatly made with sheets and blankets, each with a pillow tidily place at the head. They were getting ready for a plague. A big one. They had Batman and the vial he'd carried, loaded with virus. Bad. This was very bad. "Looks like they're gearing up for field tests, seeing if your virus is as deadly as you say." A very complete lab setup took fully half the cavern. They had a setup that was easily on par with S.T.A.R. Labs, and that was saying something.

She pushed forward, leaning over the railing. "My God..." she whispered. "So many...I...I never considered..." She murmured, shocked at last. One man's death meant nothing, but a million... I'd spotted Batman and scrambled down the ladder to the floor.

I ran to the table they'd put him on. He was restrained by a leather belt and pale, so pale. I felt for his pulse, praying.

"Is he...?" she said from behind me.

"Yes, barely," I said. A chance. There was a chance. "Okay, immunology 101. Your vaccine should stimulate an immune system response, producing antibodies to the virus, right?"

"Yes..." she said.

I cut her off. "So, the bloodstream of a vaccinated person would be filled with antibodies, ready to attack the illness, right?"

"Yes, that's all true, but..." she said and I again cut her off in my enthusiasm and hope.

"Good. Perform a complete blood transfusion. Me and him," I said.

"What? But...then you would die, too," she said, but I wasn't listening.

"Not if I took the vaccine before we got here," I said confidently.

"You...you took...That was an _experimental _vaccine. You could contract the virus from it!"

I heard the unspoken 'you idiot!' but kept talking. "Then I've got nothing to lose. Do it, and remember, even with half a blood supply I can still stop you if you try anything!"

She sighed at me, her face full of pity. "Vaccines don't act that fast. Even when they work, it takes the body time to develop a resistance. Your friend is doomed."

The sheer enormity of it hit me. Okay, so I hadn't paid that much attention in high school biology, but I realized now that she was right. I'd only taken the vaccine a few hours before at most. I couldn't have much resistance developed yet. "No..." the despairing whisper came from me. I glanced at Bruce and rested my hand on his shoulder. I was going to be bringing his body home after all.

"Unless..." she said thoughtfully.

"Unless?" I asked. "If you have any ideas, I'm ready to hear them."

She shook her head. "No. Your death I will not have on my conscience. I have killed too much already."

"What is it?" I fought the temptation to shake her.

"If your body could be...forced...to produce antibodies at a faster rate, the blood transfusion could work. I developed the virus on my own time, hiding behind other projects. One of my official projects was such a serum, to enhance the body's ability to create antibodies..." She looked troubled. "If the vaccine was experimental, this serum..." she shook her head. "It failed all the animal trials and was shelved."

"What happened? Didn't the animals produce antibodies?" I asked.

"They produced antibodies, at ten times the normal rate," she said and bit her lip. "And then they all died."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Dick Grayson 

"But there must be something you can do?" I said desperately. "Or you wouldn't have mentioned it."

"At the time, I gave the animals a full dose of the drug. After all the deaths, I theorized that a series of smaller doses given over time, might allow the body to adjust to the drug's effect." She smiled with irony, arms folded over her chest. "Unfortunately, my budget-conscious supervisor overruled me and the project was shut down."

"So you never had a chance to test your theory on animals?" I asked.

"No, I did not. But the result could be just as bad if I tried using the drug on you. It might be the drug itself, rather than the dosage that is lethal. Without further testing, I have no way to know."

I looked over to where Batman lay, very still on the table. I needed to make a decision, fast. This drug might save his life, or kill us both. I ran a hand through my hair and thought furiously. Batman had saved my life more times than I could count. I had always felt that I owed him much more than he owed me. He'd taken me in when I had nowhere to go and treated me like a son. I wasn't lying when I told him once that I'd die for him. Ever since my days as Robin, I'd watched his back, sometimes saving his life as he'd saved mine. Bruce would do this for me. No, it was worth the risk. And if I died saving his life, then I would die saving a hero.

"Okay, we'll try it your way. Give me the drug, and then start a full blood transfusion between Batman and I." She looked troubled, but I simply grinned back at her. "What's the matter, Doc? Starting to have doubts? I thought you wanted to get rid of me?"

"I do not seek your death," she said. "I have killed too many already. You make me feel ashamed of myself, and I'm not accustomed to that." She glanced over to the table where Batman lay. "Well, then, we must get started quickly. Pull over one of the cots and place Batman upon it."

I started dragging the nearest cot so that it would lie next to the table. I undid the straps that restrained Batman. "Why take him off the table? Is it to make him more comfortable?"

"No, no, no, "she said. "The table is for you. Before they died, the lab animals generally went into convulsions. The restraints are necessary to keep you still, lest you do injury to yourself."

I carried Batman to the cot and noted that his fever was spiking. I took my place on the table, wondering whether it was a good idea putting myself completely into her hands. But there was no choice. She set up the transfusion. I couldn't complain about her professionalism. She very competently installed ports in each of our arms and attached them to a pump.

"Are you certain that you want to go through with this?" She asked doubtfully.

"I'm certain," I said with all the confidence I could push into my voice. Of course I wasn't certain. How can you be certain about something like that? But one thing I knew, and that was that I couldn't let Bruce die. He was depending on me."You'd better get started. We don't have much time left."

She just nodded, then approached me with an old-fashioned, glass hypodermic and I found myself hoping that it wouldn't hurt too much.

"The injection must go into the muscle tissue," she said, gesturing that I should roll over. Great. Right in the tush. I sighed and rolled onto my stomach, giving my pants a tug. She gave me a good jab in the left cheek and it hurt like hell and probably left a bruise. "Stay on your side. When you go into convulsions it will keep you from choking on your own vomit."

Great. I had that to look forward to. Feeling increasingly more helpless, I lay still as she strapped me to the table. She turned on the pump, and stood back to watch the machine do its work. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the process_. _I couldn't possibly feel Bruce's blood being pumped into my veins and yet_...I can't, but it think I can feel it. The virus in my veins. It feels ... hot._

_Time passes, an infinity of it. She gives me a second shot, and then a third. The world is red and hot as lava. Feverish. It's working its way to my heart. Filling it. Making it pound. BOOM. Then again. BOOM. Pounding, straining, louder, harder. I gasped for air as my heart labors, the sound of its beat loud in my ears: BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. _I felt the sweat running down my face, stinging my eyes with salt. She bent over me, her face anxious. Behind her I saw a dozen men with guns running into the room. They had just battered the door down and were filling the hospital area.

"I'm shutting it down! We have to go!," She said anxiously.

"Not yet!" I stuttered, the world swimming around me. Batman was lying still on the cot; he was so still, he looked dead.

"There is no time!" She said, and turned off the pump.

"Undo these straps!" I called to her desperately. "Let me free!"

She shrugged, but unbuckled me and tied a hasty bandage around my arm, then backed away, heading for another door.

I pulled myself to my feet, dizzy and sweating. The men were coming after me. Soldiers with guns. _Now. Fever dream. Shapes blurring around me. Screams and thugs surrounding me. I fight with all I have. No tactics. No strategies. Blind instinct. A lifetime of training. My lifetime. His training. All I have now is what he gave me. All crystal clear as I fight, I see it now. Clearly, my greatest fear. Not that he would fall, but that I would fail him. I land blows on the men, take away their rifles and throw them against the wall. That he would need me someday… And my best, truest effort, would be… Not quite enough. I kick the man holding the double bladed ax, taking the weapon away from him as well. He goes down._

_Find a way. Batman would find a way. But my body fails me. The fever has me. I can feel the darkness creeping up around me. Worse yet, I can feel the side effects from the second drug working in me. I'm beginning to lose control. My body, and the world, which had looked hazy and dizzy before, is broken into a million pieces. I smell colors, I hear odors. This is like the worst drug trip the Jervis Tetch has ever forced on me..._

_It overcomes me. Too much. Too strong. It almost feels like… I see a black shadow… Wait. Is… Is that…? But it's too late. I feel myself collapse onto the floor, rubbing my overheated face against the cool cement. She was right. I shouldn't have tried this. The world turned black and went away._

* * *

BATMAN

I knew that I had to be delirious. I had disabled my tracker, yet I kept seeing Nightwing. There was no way he could have found me, I had made sure of that by encrypting the mission files and by preventing anyone from following. I felt myself being carried, then another body huddled next to me during a long, cold night. Clearly another hallucination, imagining that Dick was somehow here. I dreamed of the old days when a young Dick Grayson used to snuggle into bed with me when he'd had one of his frequent nightmares. I seemed to feel another body next to me, tugging a covering around me. But no, Dick was thousands of miles away and with the viral load I carried it was just as well. I was a dead man, and I knew it. Still, I slept, better than I had since I'd destroyed the tracker.

The morning was brilliant white and I was sure that I was being carried, but whoever it was that carried me was unsteady on his feet and panting with effort. He tripped and we both fell into the snow. I pried my eyes open fully and realized that I hadn't been hallucinating, it really was Nightwing. Here. In the midst of a plague that was going to outdo the Black Death.

I didn't have much strength, but what I had I put into my voice. "Dick..." I shouted, but only a harsh whisper got out.

"Bruce!" Dick said in elation and bent closer.

"Leave...me..." I put all the force of my personality into those words.

"The Hell, I will," Dick said, and picked me up, cradling me in his arms. That was wrong, all wrong. He should be saving his own life. I tried to protest, but only got a glare for it. Darn kid, he'd been disobeying orders for as long as I'd known him. Didn't he understand how important his life was? Raising Dick Grayson to be a man was the best thing I'd ever done, bar none. Somehow, as screwed up as I was, my son and protege had grown to be a true hero, generous, intelligent and compassionate. The world didn't need me, it needed _him_! He was my legacy, the one trained to take over when I was gone. I tried to make him understand, but my voice became random mumbling and I finally lost consciousness.

I woke to the sound of a fight, not unusual, except that I wasn't the one fighting. I lay on a cot with a multiple lines in my body. Blood transfusion? I turned my head towards the sounds of a struggle. A familiar figure in blue and black was squared off against militiamen with guns. But that wasn't possible. Dick was home in Bludhaven. I had made sure he wouldn't follow by killing the trace. I blinked, but Nightwing was still there, fighting off a dozen men armed with familiar-looking weaponry. That's when I remembered. The virus. I had been dying from it and Nightwing... Oh no...

But I was feeling better. I looked at my arm. I'd had a recent blood transfusion. The other end of the tubing was empty and Nightwing's arm had been hastily bandaged. He'd found some kind of a cure for me, but he didn't look good himself. Only someone who had watched him train from childhood would be able to tell how clumsy his movements had become. His blows were getting less and less effective. He needed help before he passed out and got himself killed.

By now, I had removed the tubing from my arm and was getting off the cot. My energy was coming back; I still wasn't one hundred percent, but getting better. I raised my arms, holding my cape extended and lunged at the militiamen and struck just as Nightwing went down.

After I had immobilized and restrained the last of the men, I was able to check on Nightwing. To my surprise, I saw a familiar-looking woman bending over him: Anna Vinchenko, the creator of the virus that had almost killed me.

"Get away from Nightwing!" I growled at her. She looked at me calmly.

"Is that his name?" she asked. "He never said. I am trying to help him. You must help me to get him onto the table. He will be in convulsions soon." She backed away from Dick and seemed honestly concerned about him. I moved in fast and had him on the table quickly.

"What's wrong with him? The virus?" Dick's face was red with fever and wet with sweat. I could feel the heavy thrum of his heartbeat through my fingertips. Beneath my hands, he began to convulse. Anna rifled through some cabinets until she found a vial of chemicals and loaded it into a syringe. "What are you giving him? More virus?" The possibility that she might be poisoning him occurred to me.

"No. No. The chemical I gave him, to increase his production of antibodies, will kill him unless I counteract it." She laid the hypodermic to one side and dispassionately watched Nightwing convulsing against the straps. "Of course, he could still die of the virus if he gave you everything."

Feeling suddenly tired, I let the wall support me and hoped it wasn't obvious. "Tell me everything that's happened," I said.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

BATMAN

I must have passed out. I woke up on the floor with Anna withdrawing a hypodermic from my thigh. I jerked away and stumbled to my feet, wonder what she'd just given me.

"You know, you needed a shot too," she said, putting the hypo down on a table. "You have gotten, not only Nightwing's antibodies but also the chemical which forces the body to overproduce them. If I hadn't given you the drug, you would have ended up like him." She glanced over at Nightwing, lying on the table but now completely still.

Completely still? I lurched over to the table and reached for his pulse, supporting myself with my other hand. His heart was beating strongly at his carotid and I breathed out with relief. Still alive. I peeled open his eyelids, checking his pupils for evidence of brain damage. He looked normal, so far, but his temperature was still too high. "Is there anything you can give him?" I asked and turned as I said it. She was halfway to the door, edging her way out.

"Where are you going?" I demanded. "You aren't going to just leave him here, are you?"

"He isn't my problem," she said. "You and he," she nodded towards Nightwing. "You are...family?"

"No...yes," I said. "But it's your virus that's affecting us both. You owe us. You owe _him_." Hoping that I'd stay on my feet, I went over to her and saw that she had been removing items from a cabinet, putting them into a satchel. "Planning on leaving with your virus?"

She jerked, then recovered herself. "And the vaccine. Dragutsk stole my formula and the entire stock of the virus." She gestured at the downed militiamen. "He is readying it for deployment. I intended..."

"You intended it for him, but not as a tool. You were planning to murder him with it," I said.

Her eyes flashed. "And why not? You don't know. You cannot know what I have been through! He...Nightwing called me murderer, but he...you...neither of you can understand! Dragutsk killed my parents in front of me! He and all his men deserve to die for it!" Her smile was feral. "I made this virus just for him, hiding it behind other projects so that nobody would know what I planned."

"But it isn't a secret anymore is it? It got out and began infecting people. Now Dragutsk knows about it and plans to use it for himself. How many more people will die so that you can have your revenge?" I studied her and felt a great weariness. "If I know Nightwing, he protected you from the militiamen, didn't he? He never did you any harm. Why should he die?"

"Why do you look at me that way?" she demanded. "As though you pity me? I don't need your pity. I will have my revenge."

"And that will make it all better?" I asked gently. "Will it bring your parents back? Give you back your life as it was?"

"No," she said. "But it will avenge them. They deserve to be avenged!"

"But it won't solve anything. Your virus will only kill thousands who never hurt you and your vengeance will give you nothing but more pain," I said. "I know."

"You know nothing," she spat. "And why should Nightwing live when my own family died? Tell me that!"

"My parents were killed when I was twelve in a mugging gone wrong. I saw the whole thing; I was there," I replied. "For years, I sought vengeance, against criminals as a class. I was sinking into the kind of darkness you live in now until something...someone...happened to me." I gestured towards the table.

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I met a boy. His parents were trapeze artists who were murdered in front of him, just like what happened to me. He was alone in the world and...needed...someone to care for him. I saw myself in him and stepped in. To my surprise, the boy's passion wasn't for vengeance, but for justice; he made me feel ashamed of myself. And suddenly, I had a child to plan for, to encourage, to teach. I had a family again, and my own darkness lifted. Nightwing and I, the both of us, know what it is to lose loved ones." I approached her as she backed away. "We both know what that darkness is like but we choose not to kill. Ever. There is light beyond the darkness. Give it up, Anna. Let it go. Destroy the virus and the formula for its creation. Choose to support life, not death." I smiled, remembering. If it hadn't been for Dick's brightness and joy in my life and Alfred's support, I could so easily have become as bitter as Anna Vinchenko. My frozen soul had warmed itself on his blazing light for so many years, and still did. If we both made it out of Siberia alive, I vowed to myself, I'd make it my business to thank him for saving me from the darkness all those years.

Nightwing begin to cough behind me. He needed me, but I was torn. "Please, Anna. There's been enough death," I said.

Slowly she picked up the satchel. "The plans are inside and so is the supply of virus. Burn them. I don't want to see them anymore." She shoved it into my hands and rushed over to Nightwing. While she was seeing to him I checked the contents of the bag. I found a vial of virus, glowing luridly, and the instructions for its creation. She had been honest with me. I quickly walked it over to the incinerator and turned the temperature up to blast-furnace levels, sagging with relief when I knew it had all been consigned to ash.

Anna remained near Nightwing, taking his vitals.

"How is he? Will he recover?" I asked, still not certain that she could be trusted.

"He will recover," she said, laying his arm back down onto the table. "His temperature has fallen but his body has been through a lot. He will sleep for a long time before he wakes. And now what is there for me? You have destroyed my virus and my bargaining chip. If I am caught, I will be killed."

"You won't be caught," I said, hearing the sounds of a familiar engine in the distance. I opened the door and she followed. Hovering overhead was the Batwing. I waved and Robin brought it in for a landing. When he lost contact with Nightwing, Alfred had sent in the cavalry.

Robin and I loaded Nightwing into the aircraft. Anna looked uncertain as she buckled herself in.

"Feeling uncertain?" I asked. She nodded. "You've made the right decision. It's time to start a new life somewhere else. I could recommend a good research lab that would be interested in you, run by WayneTech..."

"I don't know if I can start again," she said, looking out the windows. "All my life has been lived for vengeance."

"It's never too late to embrace the light," I said, settling back into my seat. 

* * *

MUCH LATER

DICK GRAYSON

My head hurt. And my back. And various places around my body, the muscles felt like they'd been run through a wringer. I couldn't have moved if I tried, I was that tired. I heard voices, talking as I floated in and out of consciousness.

"...convinced her to destroy a lifetime's work?" the voice had a familiar echo to it. Where had I heard it before?

"I didn't have to. She..."

Bruce? Bruce! He was alive! My eyes flew open. I was in the batcave, on one of our medical beds. Sharp-eyed Timbo caught me looking around in a daze.

"He's back!" He ran over to me, laughing with relief. "You're going to be okay," he said. Easy for him to say, my left butt-cheek was still hurting like crazy.

Batman, looking healthy and strong, strode over to my bed and stood silently, clearly at a loss for words. He clasped my hand in a solid grip while emotions ran across his face: relief, pride and something that might have been love.

"Thank you," he said.

The years dropped away and I was Robin again. I knew that Batman was proud of me and always had been. I grinned back up at him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Any time," I said.


End file.
